


Domino Effect

by AKnightOfAGoodKing



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Divorced Lestrade, First Time, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mutual Pining, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-28 08:00:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15044324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AKnightOfAGoodKing/pseuds/AKnightOfAGoodKing
Summary: Sherlock likes John and is easily irritated by his brother.John is an Omega, withdrawing from his suppressants for medical purposes.Mycroft pursues a romantic relationship with his goldfish.Greg Lestrade, in all the years after he first presented as a beta when he was just fifteen, is having his first heat.[DO NOT REPOST/REUSE MY WORK(S) WITHOUT MY ACKNOWLEDGEMENT AND PERMISSION.]





	1. Act I

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [What to expect](https://archiveofourown.org/works/521992) by [Sanhaim](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanhaim/pseuds/Sanhaim). 



> (hey my first Sherlock and my first a/b/o fanfiction. how exciting! ^^)

DI Greg Lestrade wasn't in a loveless marriage anymore, but his life got significantly more lonely. Even if you had a wife that hated you and spited you over late nights and missing everything form birthdays to anniversaries, at least there was someone to go home to. Sometimes, it was just enough to have someone laying in the need next to you, or sitting in the other room. 

He guessed it was only lucky that neither of them were the revered, put-on-a-pedestal Alpha-Omega couple that was sort of expected for everyone born in those two castes. Greg and his ex-wife were insignificant, two of several billions of Betas that were abundant as compared to the other two classes. That meant not having kids was acceptable; only the best breeds from an Alpha and an Omega. Besides, Greg didn't have time for a kid or two, much less his own wife. Not while Sherlock had been running through his crime scenes for the better part of five years. 

Perhaps Victoria would've wanted children with him, at the beginning when she was disillusioned with the happy British family with a copper husband rising up in the ranks. She was downright celebratory when her Beta husband became a Detective Inspector; however, she'd come to learn there was nothing to cheer about when the late hours got late and free days became half days and sometimes a full day. Greg wondered if that was when she stopped caring and started cheating.

It was hard to admit, but he knew she couldn't love him anymore, not with the way he didn't love her anymore. They married for love, it was expected, and Greg actually believed it was still true and tried to work things out. It was working, or at least he thought it did until Sherlock came in like the inconsiderate arse that he was and announced that Victoria was cheating on him with the PE teacher of the local elementary school. 

Two months later, Greg had a flat all to himself, smaller than before but even more empty with only the necessary furniture and the piles of moving boxes he had yet to open. It was a well lit place, but there were nothing on the walls save for the telly propped up on the stand. Greg sighed as he watched this week's football game, sipping on a cheap bottle of scotch. It didn't taste as good, but it burned nicely. 

Really, he wasn't in a good part of life right now, but he had work in the morning so the third glass would be his last. He thought about what he had to distract him from pouring another. 

There was still Scotland Yard, with Donovan and Anderson. They weren't the nicest people, but they did their jobs. One could even say they were aqeduate at it, but had very sensitive egos. They listened and they were obedient; Greg just had to make sure John was there from now on in order to minimize the insults. Greg still had his buddies from his early days and could never run out of drinking buddies most nights. He also knew Molly from the morgue too. 

And with John, there was Sherlock, of course, the world's only consulting detective. It took five years, but Greg was definitely on the Christmas list at Baker Street now. It wasn't the much of a difference since Greg had been in and out of that flat many times before. 

Then there was Mycroft. Much to Greg's embarrassment as a man in his mid-40s, the Inspector may have had the _littlest_ bit of a crush on the younger, auburn hair man who may or may not be _the_ British government but was most certainly an Alpha. 

Greg wasn't completely straight, but Mycroft was the first man he fallen in love with, slowly over the last two years since the younger man had stepped out of the umbrella shades more since Sherlock's increased popularity to strike up a working relationship with someone close to his brother's. The only person beside John was Greg himself, so Mycroft invited the Inspector for dinner at least once every other week to "talk" about Sherlock. 

Somewhere along the way, about a year after the first contact but before the divorce finalization, they began friends, and dinner became more than just a "Sherlock Holmes' support group" (as Greg jokingly called their meetings). Dinner at fancy restaurants at Mycroft's choosing became something the two of them did, as friends. It was during the last few months of the divorce that Greg realized his feelings for the other man because he caught himself thinking how much he liked the way Mycroft spoke and laughed, how he didn't use his class status but his charm and sharp wit to talk down other Alphas with inflated egos. How Mycroft's eyes were just so expressive, even if his face was stony. Or how he walked with dignity and elegance, stepping aside for no one yet never too prideful as to walk ahead of whoever he was speaking to. 

Greg groaned, grimacing as he caught himself once again, he turned off the telly and down the last of is scotch. He couldn't possibly have a man like Mycroft, not when he was just a Beta himself. Alphas don't go for generic, average Betas; they went after pretty, sweet Omegas who smelled nice and could bear children regardless of their gender. Greg didn't have anything to compete with that; he was an old bag, really, hair already grayed out and quickly passing his prime when it came to fertility. Twenty years was a long time to waste not being in love with the one you married. 

God, he was being a pathetic sod. He had to move on. 

.

.

.

Mycroft had made himself comfortable on the couch of his little brother's shared flat. However, he wasn't there to see Sherlock today, not until he had a chance to speak to the good doctor. 

"What did you want to talk about?" John asked, sitting in his armchair with a cuppa in his hands. He was wearing one of his nicer jumpers today, probably going on another date with an unsuspecting Beta woman again. 

Mycroft took a sip of his tea before he placed it on the table, entwining his fingers together over his knee. "I wanted to talk about our Detective Inspector," he replied. "You're one of his closest friends, John. Perhaps you can tell me what's he thinking right now. It's been almost three months since the separation, and I have the feeling he's avoiding me."

John raised an eyebrow. "He looks fine to me, though looking a bit more tired than before, but that makes sense after a divorce." 

"I see . . ." Mycroft said slowly. "Do you think that it's be too crass to propose a new romance to Gregory so soon?" 

John blinked, speechless. Was the minor and mysterious Mycroft Holmes _interested_  in their Detective Inspector? He never even noticed, but Greg didn't talk about being close friends with the other Holmes too. 

"Do you _like_ Greg, Mycroft?" the former army doctor asked. 

Mycroft huffed lightly, crossing his legs by the knees. "I'm aware of how unconventional and unproductive an Alpha being romantically interested in a Beta is to society," he said, "but I don't see Gregory as a Beta. I see him as a brave man, loyal, caring, and intellegent. I would look pass biological when it comes to him."

John smiled, laughing a little bit because he noticed the light tint of pink on the usually stoic man's face. "I can't believe Sherlock hasn't noticed and pointed it out. Lord knows he loves bothering you."

The younger man chuckled. "Sherlock tends to ignore  close potential romance, especially with me because he thinks I'm the Iceman. That's why he hasn't realized anything about _you_ , John."

John shifted a bit in his seat, uncomfortable about the prospect of his flatmate discovering the secret he had been hiding ever since he joined right after college. Thank God Mycroft wanted to help him, not expose him, and had been providing better suppressants in return of John taking care of his brother. Not that John needed any incentive to. He really did care for Sherlock.

"That being said," Mycroft said, breaking the silence, "you'll need to go in a withdraw period soon, John. If I'm going to keep supplying you, I'd at least want to make sure you're not dosing too much and have the medication clog up your bloodstream. Every year is the best."

John groaned in fustration. He knew that, but he didn't like it. At least it wasn't going to be as bad or intense as the first heat he had in over a decade and a half, when he had been taking the suppressants religiously. He remembered like it was only yesterday, and that was because it hadn't been that long ago, when Mycroft first started supplying him. At least going into withdrawal once a year would only mean an avaerage time in heat, about a week or so, and with his age, it would be shorter. 

Neither of them flinched when Sherlock burst into the door, looking annoyed. He had smelled his older brother's scent right outside on the steps, and that was usually eniugh for him into a childish mood. That, and having another Alpha in his home without his acknowledgement and alone with his Beta flatmate and closest friend made him a tad bit protective if not possessive. 

"Mycroft," Sherlock said, eyeing both his brother and flatmate. "What are you doing here? Checking up on my again?" 

Mycroft resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "No, I'm here for John actually," he replied. "I wanted to do something nice and offered John a week's vacation anywhere he'd like. Your birthday is coming up, isn't it, John?"

John nodded. This was the ploy they'd been using for the past years. "I heard Nova Scotia is nice this time around," he said. "That's nice of you, Mycroft."

"Again?" Sherlock asked, a frown on his face. "One would think you were courting, Mycroft."

"Sherlock!" John shouted, flustered at the implication. That was cutting it too close, really. 

Sherlock huffed, turning up his nose as he loudly make his way to his bedroom. "Keep away from what's mine, Mycroft," he said before closing the door behind him. 

There was a pregnant pause.

"Perhaps I was wrong," Mycroft commented with a small grin. "Perhaps Sherlock isn't as ignorant as I thought."

"I'm sorry about that," John said, shaking his head. "I don't know what's going on with him. He's been a bit tense these days."

"Have you considered the chance that you might be the reason?"

John sputtered, flushing a deep red. "He certainly doesn't show it." 

Mycroft's grin remained as he got up, umbrella in hand. "I'll take my leave now," he said. "Goodbye, John."

"Yes, bye, Mycroft. Make sure you don't push Greg too hard. We're close friends, you know."

.

.

.

Four dates in one month was a bit much, but it helped to distract himself as much of possible outside the Yard. Greg just had a nice brunch with a blind date set up by a friend over at the blue collar department. Her name was Nancy, a pretty brunette Beta woman who was a nurse around his age but barely showing any signs of aging, and she seemed very interested in Greg. He thought he could like her too. They planned another date for later that week at a local resturestant, a quaint French place with a good list of wine. His phone buzzed. 

"Excuse me for a bit, luv," Greg said, taking out his phone. 

_I would like to see you. —MH_

Greg wanted to say yes, but he let it go. The Alpha had been trying to speak to him for a while now, though Greg had been ignoring him for a good reason. And if Mycroft really needed to see him, the younger man would know exactly where to find him. So it must not be important.

Probably. 

"Is something wrong?" Nancy asked, raising a curious brow. "You have a look on your face."

"It's nothing," Greg replied back, giving her a reassuring smile. 

Nancy hummed, placing her chin on her delicate hand and pondering. "It doesn't seem like nothing. You look like you have something on your mind. Or _someone_."

Greg coughed, quickly putting his phone away. "You're right, but we don't have to talk about it tonight. I'm having a nice time with you."

"I am too, but am I wasting my time out on this date with you, Greg? You know we're at the age when we should seize the moment. You should go for it." 

Greg blinked in surprise, wondering if it was so obvious. "It wouldn't be fair to you. We like each other enough." 

Nancy laughed. "I'm a widow, remember? I already had my chance. You should have yours too. I date because I don't want to live the rest of my life alone. Now go on. I got the bill."

Greg hesistated, feeling awkward, but his phone buzzed again. He pulled it out. 

_Please? —MH_

"Okay," Greg said, getting up. He gave Nancy a thankful look. "I don't usually do this, Nancy, but can we still see each other, as friends I mean?" 

Nancy nodded. "Of course, Greg. You can come cry on my shoulders if you need to."

He chuckled, giving the other a peck on the cheek in farewell, and they parted, Greg heading out of the restaurant and Nancy asking for the check. 

_Okay. Let's talk. —GL_

There was no reply as a familiar black car pulled up, and the back door opened. 

"Hello, Gregory," the British government said, dressed as brilliantly as ever. 

"Hi, Mycroft," the Detective Inspector replied, and he couldn't help but smile as he climbed it, closing the door behind him. The car began to drive off, an oddly comfortable silence settling despite how long it'd been since they last saw each other. 

"You've been avoiding me," Mycroft said, breaking the silence, turning his head slightly to face his friend.

Greg swallowed. "Yes," he said. 

"Did I do something to offend you?" 

The Beta shook his head. "No, it's not you. It's me."

"Will you continue to avoid me, Gregory?" 

"No." 

Mycroft smiled at that, and Greg felt a lot more braver though still nervous. 

"What did you want to talk about?" Greg asked. 

The Alpha fidgeted in his seat, to which the Beta raised an eyebrow at. Mycroft was rarely uncomfortable, always making himself seem as if he he belonged to wherever he went. Perhaps Greg was wrong, that there was something important to talk about. 

"I know that it's only been three months since your separation," Mycroft said, and Greg grimaced at the memory, "so I apologise if I'm being too forward in asking you on a date?" 

Greg was floored, his heart pounding loudly in his ears as his jaw went slack in excitement and disbelief. Was this really happening? 

Mycroft frowned, expecting the worst. "I apo—"

"I can't give you children," Greg quickly interrupted. "I'm not an Omega, and I'm passing my prime in a year or two." 

"I am aware, Gregory, but I'm not asking you out on a date for the prospect of having children. I do very much like you. You are a great friend, and despite our biological imperatives, I want to pursue _you_."

Greg laughed, feeling relieved. "Funny how things work out. My date tonight kicked me out to ask you the same. I like you too, Mycroft. A lot. I just didn't think someone like you would want to do with an old man like me. I'm nothing extraordinary or overly intelligent. I just do my job, and my job's the reason my ex-wife cheated on me. Are you sure you want to this? You have so many options. I can't be the only one."

Mycroft moved closer to Greg, taking the other by the hand and bringing it up to his lips. This was the first romantic act between them, and it would most definitely not be the last. "There has never been anyone else that has me like you do," he confessed. "No Omega or any other Beta. I only have eyes for you, Gregory. I'm certain."

Greg swallowed again, and he felt his entire being shift, moving him until he was close enough to the other man to kiss. 

See? It was most definitely not the last. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (hehehe. i don't know what im doing but i like Mystrade. apologizes for the fast pacing.)


	2. Act II

"John, your scent has changed slightly. Are you getting sick? As a doctor, you should keep better care of your own health."

The former doctor tensed, but he didn't stop buttering his toast. He had been weening off on the suppressants slowly the past few weeks, but it wasn't supposed to be noticable. Mycroft had been providing him with scent blockers and masking cologne.

"They do say doctors are the worst patients," John replied calmly. He knew he should tell Sherlock his secret, but there was still something in him that feared rejection and the idea of being treated like a delicate flower. He wouldn't have been able to join the army or become a doctor like he was not. There had been too many close calls in the past. 

"Still," Sherlock said slowly, his eyes heavy and sharp on his flatmate, "keep better care of yourself. There's not another doctor I can take with me to solve crimes, is there?" 

John chuckled. "Yes, yes, Sherlock, whatever you wish."

Sherlock frown, not a bit amused, but they continued breakfast quietly until John had to leave for the clinic. 

Ten hours later, John was meeting up with Greg at the local pub. They did this every other week. 

"Evening, John," Greg said as he sat down at the bar. 

"Hey, Greg," John replied with a smile, waving down a bartender for two beers. 

Greg breathed in deep trough his nose right then and there. "Your scent seems off," he noted, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "Are you sick?" 

John quickly nodded, shrugging nonchalantly. "I'm fine. Nobody but you and Sherlock mentioned that to me today. How's Mycroft?" 

"He's coming back from his trip in Belgaria a few days earlier than expected. Does Sherlock suspect yet?" 

"Not a bit."

Greg had to laugh. He had a secret that the imfamous Sherlock didn't not know. He and Mycroft had been betting against each other about how long it'd take the younger Holmes to notice. 

Their beers arrived. 

.

.

.

When Greg woke up the next morning, he felt groggy and too warm despite it being autumn. He tried to recall how many drinks he had last night with John, but they couldn't have had more than two pints each along with some snacks. Maybe he got sick from whatever John had, though John said he was fine. 

The gray haired Beta sat up and tried to stand up, but he fell back onto his bed because his knees were too weak and shaky to hold him. He could feel his skin burning, and he was gulping for air. He couldn't possibly get to the Yard anytime soon. 

It took a few moments to find his phone on the nightstand beside him and barely making a call to call in sick. He rarely did that, so Donavon told him they could handle a day or two without him. After the call ended, Greg had taken all his clothes off, save for his boxer briefs, but he still couldn't stand the heat radiating off his body. He had never felt this way before, a hot intense feeling churning at his lower abdomen. He was yearning for something, but he wasn't sure what he wanted. It just needed to stop. 

.

.

.

John was panicking.

This was too early, too sudden. He woke up burning and sweating, and it was still a few weeks before he got off the suppressants completely. He felt his heart threatening to explode in his chest as he stumbled his way towards his drawer and took out the bottle of pills. He took two more than recommended and completely warned against, but he had to stop this before it got out of control. He couldn't risk it, not in 21B Baker Street. Nothing would ever be the same again. 

John made sure to lock his door before fetching his phone and sending a text. 

_I know you're not back from London yet, but I need help. Now. -JW_

_Is something wrong? -MH_

_I need that week's vacation. -JW_

_I see. I'll send Anthea to you immediately. -MH_

John felt assured, but he dreaded the confrontation. It was still early in the morning, so Sherlock might have just gone to bed. He hoped Anthea would get there soon and he'd be able to sneak out without waking his flatmate up. 

What happened? Was there something work with his medication? Maybe it was his body trying to get back at him again for all those years of being denied. He'd read about the biological backlash against long-term use of heat suppressants, ranging from being driven nearly mad for a mate to death. He quickly started packing to keep his mind from wondering to close that topic. 

His phone buzzed. 

_Doctor Watson. I'm waiting for you outside. -A_

John sighed in relief, not bothering to change out of his pajamas as he grabbed his bag and opened the door as quietly as he could. 

He was surprised to find Sherlock standing at the threshold, looking like he was barely able to continue himself as his hands held onto the wooden panels on the side. The taller man's eyes were dialated, and he took a deep breath. He must have been there for God knows how long. 

"Sherlock," John said, his body going into overdrive between fight and flight and submission. He breathed in and caught his flatmate's scent, thick and strong, everything like a young, fertile Alpha. Sherlock's scent nearly made John whimper in want. 

"I thought you were just sick," Sherlock said through greeted teeth. He was restraining himself, his hands clutching hard at the wood and nearly breaking it with his fingers. "But it got stronger when you came home and it didn't stop. You should've _told_ me."

John shuddered. "Sherlock," he said, letting out a stuttering breath, "I need to leave."

"But I don't want you to, John," Sherlock whined, his pale face pink. "Is there someone else? Is it Lestrade? I smelled him on you when you came home."

"It's not Greg. There's no one. I promise. Sherlock, I need you to move, or we might be regretting this for the rest of our lives."

Sherlock closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, leaning closer but had not made a step forward. Then, unepectedly, he slipped down to the floor, hands crawling down the sides and leaving trail marks behind, and he looked up with glossy, dark eyes, his knees pressed against each other to keep him sane. 

" _Please, John_ ," the younger man begged, baring his teeth a little. "Don't go. I don't care that you kept this from me, but don't have anyone but me. Let me make you feel good. I've never wanted anyone in my life before, but you smell so _exquisite_. You can have anything you want from me. I'll give you all the pups you want. Just no one else but me, John. _Please_."

John felt himself get wet, his biology reving for the prospect of breeding, even if his chances of having children were low at this age, and he groaned in pleasure. He had never been desired like this before, much less by the man he had grown to love, his flatmate, his best friend. There was really no other Alpha but Sherlock Holmes for him, but he restrained himself. They were both being fools, induced by a lustful haze, so they must be careful. Nothing would ever be the same again.

"Sherlock, you're just saying this because you can't help it," John forced himself to say. He felt his phone buzzed in his hand, but he ignored it. "You don't know what you're saying. It could be anyone."

Sherlock whimpered again, pitiful and desperate. "No, no, no," he argued, growling at the denial of his claim. "No one else but you. It's always been only you, John. Please, please, please, _please_. Anything, anything you want, John. Just no one else but _me_." 

"You're confused, Sherlock," John replied, shuddering again at the Alpha's words. "I have to leave."

Sherlock let out a sob, something that never truly happens when an Alpha was attempting to breed an Omega. But then again, an Alpha didn't beg either, asking for the Omega's permission in the midst of a heat. The wood was creaking in protest. 

"No, no, no," he repeated, tears falling down his face as he let go of the wood only to resist from pulling John by pressing his arms against his chest. He let out another growl, possessive yet sad. "Please, John. _I love you, only you._ "

John's knees buckled, catching himself against the door. He had always fantasized about those words being said by his best friend to him. It was stupid, an aging Omega with old scars like him thinking he had a chance with such a young and beautiful Alpha like Sherlock bloody Holmes. This was a dream.

"Do you really?" he asked, unsure but hopeful. He always thought Sherlock saw him only as a friend and whatever attraction the consultjng detective would ever have for him was based solely in their biology. John was sure he was hopelessly in love with his best friend. "Do you really love me, Sherlock?"

Sherlock nodded frantically. "Yes, yes," he replied, "I love you, John."

"You know I'm broken, right?" John asked, feeling defeat. He wasn't what Sherlock wanted. 

"You're not _broken_ , John. You're _brilliant_. You tolerate me and praise me when everyone else would've walked away. You _stayed_. You _like_ my company. You think I'm _amazing_ when others call me a freak. John, let me in. I can barely stop myself right now, and I don't want to lose you. _Please_. I don't want to lose you, but I don't want anyone else but _me_ to have you." The young Alpha let out another sob, subdued and close to withering on the floor of their flat. 

And John, he let out a slow exhale, trying to control his breathing as he looked at his phone, his vision muddled with list, and he replied back. Then he put it and his bag down, growing nervous with every movement. He had not been accompanied in his heat since forever, but he had already made up his mind. 

"Okay, Sherlock," the aging Omega said, his voice wavering in excitement and tension. "No one else but you."

Sherlock looked up, and without anymore restraint, he let out a loud growl and stood up, slamming the door behind him as the starving beast within him no longer held back and went to claim what was his.

.

.

.

_Doctor Watson replied, 'We'll be okay.' -A_

_Should we do something? -A_

_No. -MH_

_As much I hate for them to have gone this way, if John was able to reply back, Sherlock must have been able to excercise restraint. -MH_

_Though I would like to have them checked up on throughout John's heat. And to make sure they'll have the necessary provisions. -MH_

_Yes, sir. I'll personally go myself and report back. -A_

_Thank you, Anthea. -MH_

_Of course, sir. -A_

Mycroft let out a sigh, feeling assured that his little brother and the former army doctor will be fine. He hadn't expected this to happen, and he wondered why was that. The suppressants he provided were supposed to do their job, and John was meticulous in taking them, even as he lowered his dosage for his yearly rest from them.

He'd have to look into this later, but for now, while the two were preoccupied in 221B Baker Street, Mycroft had managed to back to London later that afternoon. The conference went much better than expected, and the Alpha was quite proud. He was hoping that he could catch his lover for an impromtu luncheon. 

_Gregory, would you like to have lunch? -MH_

There was no reply, which was odd because the Beta was rarely without his phone, not when he was supposed to be at work. Greg always replied within ten minutes, or at least replied back with an indication that it wasn't the best time to text or chat. 

_Gregory? Are you okay? Please reply back. -MH_

Again, no reply, and Mycroft felt a chill run down in spine in worry. He called Greg's number this time, and it was picked up. 

_"Mycroft? Luv, is that you?"_

"Gregory," Mycroft said in relief, noting the lack of energy and chipper his lover usually had when answering, "is everything alright? You didn't reply to my text. Are you at the Yard right now?" 

_"N-no. I'm not feeling all that well this morning. I called in for the day off and tried to sleep it off, but I don't think it helped. I-I don't know what to do, Mycroft."_

"I'm heading to you right now," Mycroft said, quickly relaying for his driver to change course before returning to his privacy. "Can you tell me anything else? Could it be something you ate?" He may need to call in a doctor. 

_"No-nothing from the usually. John and I met up at the pub last night and had only a few drinks. I think I caught something from him. I ache everywhere, Mycroft. I **need** you."_

A soft moan came through the receiver, and Mycroft felt himself stiffen, which was shocking because the auburn man had much more control of himself. "I'll be there soon, Gregory," he said, trying to reassuring his lover. "Just be a little more patient."

_"Okay."_

The call ended there, and Mycroft spoke to his driver again, telling her to go as fast as possible, and quickly willed his erection away. It wasn't appropriate when his lover was in pain. His tapped his fingers excessively onthe handle of his umbrella the rest of the ride there, and he got out just as the car went into park, leaving it behind as he walked towards the building Greg had been living in the past several months. (He'd move Greg to a much better space later.) Mycroft signalled for the driver to leave as he headed up a flight of stairs, and at the door, he pulled out his copy of the keys and entered Greg's flat. 

A sweet, honied scent wafted through the small living room, and Mycroft already wanted more, instinctively following to where the source was. He knocked on the bedroom door, giving only one warning before he opened it. 

The scent hit him like an explosion of pheremones, driving his senses to a new height. All of the sudden, he was all too aware of the colors on the room, muted by the curtains, and he could not ignore the soft, wanton groans of his beloved Gregory coming from the bed, twisting in agony in nothing but his boxer briefs. Mycroft took in another deep breath, and he became gluttonous as there was nothing between him and the source of that scent. It was enticing. 

"Mycroft?" Greg called out, his eyes peeking out from behind heavy lids. "What's happening to me?" 

The Alpha gently hushed his lover as he took one step at a time towards the bed, loosening up his three piece and uncharacteristically letting his jacket and waistcoat fall to the floor. He greedily eyed the skin of Greg's neck and dipped his head between the Beta's shoulder, his mouth watering in anticipation. Greg let out a lewd sound of relief, and Mycroft stiffened once again, a dark, hidden streak in him rising to the call. 

"I can't be certain, Gregory," the younger man said, drinking in the scent as he began to roam his lover's body. The skin under the palm of his hands burned wonderfully where he touched, and he wanted to bruise it, _claimed_ it. He began to nip at Greg's neck with his teeth, leaving little marks as he kissed as much as he could. "But I might have an idea. Do you trust me, Gregory?" 

Greg was trembling at his touch, arching into every touch like a lifeline. "Y-yes, oh God."

Mycroft grinned, his hands gently grasping at Greg's hips and his fingers slowly pulled at the last article of clothing the Beta had on left. The smell once again intensified, coming from the slick between his lover's legs. The Alpha couldn't believe how much self-restraint he had in that moment, licking his lips. 

"You're wet, Gregory," the younger man stated as he thumbed at the skin near the silver fox's hole, and he brought a sliver of the slick to taste. He growled in pleasure, his erection growing harder in anticipation. 

"What? What do you mean wet?" Greg asked, still trembling. He attempted to close his legs, but Mycroft had settled himself between them, making it impossible. "I'm not a- Betas can't get  _wet_. This doesn't make sense. What the bloody hell is  _happening_ to me?" 

Mycroft purred, oddly in more control than he should be, when Greg tried to push him away by the chest, unsure of everything yet his instinct told him he was in impending danger of some kind. 

"You're a rare creature, my darling," Mycroft cooed, grabbing Greg by one of his wrist and bringing it to his lips, and he couldn't help but bite at the pulse point and incite a delicious cry. He wanted to hear more, lapping at the small wound. "A _versatile_ Beta. You naturally accommodate to the biology of your mate. If an Omega was involved, one would be able to go into rut, but _you_ have an Alpha."

Greg let out a cry, hot lava washing over him at the sound of Mycroft's voice, which had grown husky and laced with pride. It made the older man feel desired, and he so desperately wanted to be _bred_. The heat at the bottom of his stomach burned hotter as the Beta became immensely embarrassed at that thought.

"There's nothing to be ashamed of, Gregory," Mycroft assured, as if he read his lover's thought. He had grabbed Greg by an ankle, holding up the lean limb to scrape his teeth and tongue against the skin of his lover's thigh. "You don't understand how much I want to take you, my darling, because there can't be anyone but me whom you've adapt to please. I won't _allow_ it. Am I correct, darling?"

Greg yelped, a quick yet harsh bite to his skin, and he felt himself get _wetter_. What was this man doing to him? And why did he want to accept it so much? He needed his lover so much that he could die.

"No one else," the Beta in heat answered, moaning sinfully when he felt a thumb against his entrance. "Only you."

Mycroft grinned wickedly, ready to devour, but he stopped himself, needing to be certain. "My dear Gregory, do you want me?" he asked coyly, his other hand caressing the Beta's cock like a feather. "Am I the one you want?"

"Yes!" Greg shouted, pleading to be taken because there was a need for Mycroft, his lover, his _Alpha_. "Yes, yes, _yes_!” 

"Oh, darling, you don't know what you've done to me," said the wolf in sheep's clothing before he unshed his faux fur and began to devour. 


	3. Act III

When John woke up from the haze, a cool relief had settled in his body, and he felt as sorry as he did refreshed for the first time in years after a heat because almost all of his heat, he went though alone. But there was evidence all over his body and in him that undeniably showed he went through this one with Sherlock, the young Alpha himself still in bed with his arms wrapped around John's waist like he was holding onto something precious. 

The former army doctor was glad it was over, but then an old fear of his slowly creeped back on him because Alphas and Omegas would say anything during a heat period. John smiled a little despite that, not able to believe fully that his best friend wanted to breed him so badly. 

Sherlock was so desperate and almost pitiful the entire time, whimpering in unadulterated pleasure as he frantically moved like he was a sex deprived teenager. The raven was so attentive too, wanting to please John in every way, from asking if John was also feeling good to pressing a dozen kisses in apology when he thought he bit or bruised John a little too hard. In retrospect, a rutting Sherlock was adorable, and John couldn't want more, though he couldn't help but remember how hot and hard Sherlock's knot was, how it did not seem to yield no matter how many times they'd done it. 

John hid behind his hand, unable to let his face be exposed despite being in the privacy and comfort of his own bedroom. He peeked through his fingers when he felt the vibrations of a waking Sherlock all around him, and he was about to jolt.

"Don't leave," Sherlock said softly, his voice hoarse from overuse but gently. It wasn't his usual tone, but he might be a bit too tired and too comfortable to notice, pulling John a little closer as he inhaled a lungful of the Omega's scent. He kissed the deep bite across the back of John's neck, which tickled and made John laugh. " _Mine_."

"We should get up, Sherlock," John said but did nothing to pull away. 

"Later. You don't smell enough like me." The young Alpha was still at the end of his rutting stage, protective and possessiveness over his Omegan charge. 

"You bit me. Everyone will know." 

Sherlock hummed, curling himself up around John and efficiently trapping the smaller man. " _Mine._ No more taking Mycroft's birthday gift. You don't need the suppressants anymore."

John frowned, turning around in a defensive fury. "That's not for _you_ to decide," he stated firmly. "I trust you, Sherlock, but so help me God, if you even think of our bond will mean I'll let you decide what I do and think, you'll have another thing coming to you. I _am_ legally allowed to carry a firearms." 

The Omega's glare was threatening, the lust of his heat a far afterthought and he must reaffirm his independence and individuality, and the consulting detective whimpered. Sherlock, John had noted, was a lot more submissive than the average Alpha, so willing to please his Omega. 

"Do you understand, Sherlock?" John asked. 

The young Alpha nodded, looking wholly chastised, so John decided the other man deserved to be let off lightly, this time. 

"I'm going to keep taking my medication, Sherlock," he explained, "but I still have to go through withdraw to fend off the bad side effects. You'll always be my first choice, and we're together now, okay? There's nothing for you to worry about, you brilliant git. You're  _mine_ too."

Sherlock hummed happily. "I won't protest to that," he said, his mind waking up fully now. "I love you, John."

The older man laughed, leaning in to kiss his mate. "Love you too, Sherlock."

.

.

.

Mycroft was dressed in only in a bathrobe as he finished putting together a little something to eat. He was grateful for Anthea's timing and planning. There was absolutely no way he would have left the flat so soon after Greg's unexpected heat was coming to an end. 

The British government carefully made his way to the bedroom, balancing the small tray of food and fluids in his hands. His lover's lewd scent still lingered in the air and no doubt in the bedsheets and on their skin. 

The Alpha heard a waking moan, setting the tray on the bedside table as he sat on the edge of the mattress. "Good morning, Gregory," he said with a prideful smile. He loved how the remenents of his affections and attention looked on his lover's hips, thighs, neck and everywhere in between. "How are you feeling?" 

"Like I never want to do that again," Greg replied, groaning as he curled up in in himself. "What the bloody fuck was that?" 

Mycroft smiled, placing a palm across his Beta's stomach to reenact a previous position. "Do you remember much? You went through your very first heat."

Greg glared, seeing the smugness in his lover's eyes. "I'm a middle aged man, not a teenage boy, Myc. I'm not an Omega."

"And I recall saying that you are a versatile Beta, a distinct subgroup of the Beta class that accommodate biologically to their non-homosexual partners. You must have inherited it from your French ancestry. France has a higher percentage of class anomalies." 

"So what does that mean?" 

"It means nothing if you wish, Gregory. Being with me was the stressor to awaken your dormant trait, and being around John in his withdrawl period triggered the process. You are more sensitive towards Omegan pheromones, and with the condition of having an Alpha mate and a familiar Omega going into heat set your hormones to sync up. It's fascinating."

"Is this going to happen again?" Greg asked. He couldn't afford to take time off every monthly, not that he even wanted to. He liked his job. He didn't like feeling like his blood was going to boil him inside out, though he couldn't deny how _good_ Mycroft made him feel the entire time. Greg's memory was a mixture of pleasure drawn out by a lot of excruciating teasing and the Alpha's God-damned patience to build tension up every time. 

What little Greg remembered clearly was the look of awe and childish joy on Mycroft's face, his suggestive tone turned amusing and making the Beta beg for more. Greg remembered that, and he remembered the first time he experienced Mycroft's knot, thick and unrelenting to plug him up so that he would take the Alpha's seed. 

They found out Greg was quite the screamer. 

"Nothing can be conclusive as of yet," Mycroft said, helping his Beta sit up. "I am only aware and certain of two variables, but you and I have been together for quite some time already. If John is taking his suppressants as usual and nothing occurs the next month, then we'll know. Now you must eat, Gregory. Your body needs to recover."

Greg frowned, looking at his body. "You really did me in, Myc."

Mycroft coughed, trying to feel a little bad, but this was only stroking his ego, though he wouldn't admit it out loud at the moment so passed a glass of water to Greg. "I did, didn't I?' 

"I know what you're thinking," Greg quickly called out, already looking much livelier as he sipped on the water. "You were different than usual, meaner but you- you were _spoiling_ me."

Mycroft hummed at that thought. Greg was right; the Alpha in his rut had a lot more self-control than usual, though he did not know if he was like this with everyone undergoing a heat. He only had one person to ever interest him like this. 

"I do love spoiling you," he said, giving Greg a plate with food and a fork. "Would you like to take a shower after?"

"Yes, but I'm sure my legs won't hold me up for a while. They're still shaking a little."

Mycroft smiled, an Alpha at the end of his rut. "Then if I may, Gregory, allow me to wipe you down with a cloth. It's not the cleanest option, but you'll feel a little more refreshed."

Greg smiled back. "You're going to spoil me _rotten_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (MYCROFT AND SHERLOCK HOLMES ARE SERVICE TOP ALPHAS WHO LOVE TO GIVE THEIR MATES THE BEST AND WILL DO ANYTHIGN TO GIVE THEM WHAT THEY WANT AND MORE. SHERLOCK IS CLINGY BUT HE DOESNT. STOP. LIKE OMGS HE IS **RELENTLESS** AND KEEPS. ON. GOING. JOHN HAS NEVER ORGASMED THAT MANY TIME IN HIS LIFE. AND MYCROFT. SADISTIC BASTARD WHO LOVES TO MAKE GREG BEG AND SCREAM. IF YOURE GOOD AND DO AS HE SAYS HE'LL REWARD YOH. ;))))) THANK YOU FOR COMING TO MY TED TALK.)
> 
> ((hey thanks for reading. hope you liked this because i might add a sequel, who knows?))

**Author's Note:**

> If you like my work(s), please check out my Twitter and consider supporting me: [@kappachyun](https://twitter.com/kappachyun?s=09).


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